


The Three Times They Kissed, And The One Time It Mattered.

by Writing_In_Denial



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Boys Will Be Boys, Drug Use, Fluffy Ending, Ghoul Courier Six, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 07:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9311777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_In_Denial/pseuds/Writing_In_Denial
Summary: Ghoul!Courier Bartholomew has never wanted something so bad. However like the old pre-war poets used to say, 'if you love it let it go, if it's meant to be then it will come back.' However what those poets forgot to mention was how bad it fucking hurt.Or a drabble where the Courier has fallen in love with Boone, but the sniper is too conflicted on his own feelings to know what to do. Kissing, drinking and angst ensues.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I did this while I was supposed to be doing school work. Woe is me. This is unbeta'd, and I quickly wrote it so if you guys see any mistakes don't be afraid to let me know. Otherwise I hope you enjoy!  
> (Also: This might be apart of a larger work I'm planning to write for this character so be on the watch for that. However for right now it is still considered a standalone.)

The three times they kissed and the one time it actually meant something.

~~~

One.

The first one hurt, it was all teeth and no give as Boone kept his hand trapped against the ghoul's throat. To be honest Bartholomew didn't even know who initiated the kiss. It still had Barry breathing heavily through his nostrils as he tasted the thick bitter taste of scotch and copper blood. It hurt but it felt right. A type of fire dancing through him that he'd never knew existed.

In the morning neither of them spoke about it. Boone acted like it never happened, the next night however when Boone was sleeping, Barry drifted his fingers over his mouth, where the sniper's lips had been pressed. He desperately told himself the kiss didn't mean anything, but when black eyes glanced at the other male- watching his chest rise and fall with steady breaths...he realized that wasn't true. That the other man meant something to him.  
It hurt.

It hurt because Boone was still grieving over his wife and child, it hurt because Barry knew he never had a chance. Even if the sniper wasn't still in mourning, he'd never love someone like Barry. Couldn't love a ghoul like him. A man like him.

It fucking hurt.

But he told himself it didn't as he took a swig out of a bottle of scotch, not wanting to admit that his once favorite drink had lost it's appeal.

~~~

Two.

The next time he was shaking, he was so hopped up on Psycho and Med-X that he couldn't see straight. He was leaning most of his weight against Boone as they walked back to the Lucky 38, Benny's blood still coating his hands. He balled his hands into tight fists as he scratched off the congealed liquid with dirty nails, pieces flaking off with every scratch at his skin.

He could hear himself talking as they stumbled into the elevator. He was babbling, his raspy voice going on and on, saying things that didn't even make sense. Boone didn't say anything, but his grip tightened on Barry's arm enough that it stung. For a moment the ghoul thought the bone was going to give- but he kept talking. Because if he was good at anything it was talking.

The second time was much like the first. Rough, apathetic and distant. The ghoul thought Boone just wanted to get Barry to shut up. When the elevator dinged to signal their stop at the presidential suite, Boone pulled away. His face stoic as usual. Barry pretended not to feel disgust in himself at how fast his heart was beating in excitement, to shrug off the hurt he felt at the other man's actions as Boone pulled away from him entirely, allowing the ghoul to be dropped onto his bed.

When the other man left and closed the door behind him he cried. It wasn't loud sobbing, but just a few wet tears that slid down his leather rough skin of his face. Barry didn't even know his tear ducts could still produce as much tears as they did.

He spent that night curled up on his bed nursing a bottle of warm beer and another heart break. Feeling a type of numbness that he's only felt once before, the sniper was involved in that too. His body had become too dehydrated to cry anymore so he just stared at the wall. Once the high wore off he came crashing down, his thoughts were made more clear and venomous. He didn't want to think.

He took a hit of Jet and finished off his third bottle of beer.

The thought of scotch made him feel sick.

Now beer did too.

~~~

Three.

The next time they were celebrating in the Lucky 38's cocktail lounge. The evening was quiet, the others already in bed. However they continued to drink and toast. Having wiped out everyone in The Fort including Caesar himself was a feat that shouldn't go without any recognition.

There were more of the Legion out there of course, someone was going to take Caesar's place. However at the moment they wanted to bask in the feeling of glory- maybe relief, suddenly it felt a bit easier to breathe for the both of them.

They were drunk, Barry more so than Boone. (Hell, Barry didn't even know it was possible to get drunk on wine.) Abstinence was not a word in the ghoul's vocabulary- especially when it came to alcohol. So it wasn't a surprise that he was so drunk he could barely stand. Or he was so drunk that he threw out common sense.

He pressed his mouth to Boone's lips, for a moment the sniper didn't respond so he began to pull away. It was only a rough hand tangled in the remnants of his hair that kept him from moving. They were so close that he could smell the wine on Boone's own mouth. Watched as the pink tongue went to lick at dry chapped lips.  
He couldn't really tell what Boone was feeling. Those sunglasses hid too much for the ghoul to see, but their next kiss was a bit softer. Filled with something other than frustration, guilt and disgust.

Maybe the ghoul entertained the idea that Boone might have feelings back for him. If only for a fleeting moment.

However in the morning when Boone didn't look at him in the eyes- the ghoul threw the wine bottle across the room. Glass shattering against the wall. Nobody asked what the commotion was, he didn't tell.

He never wanted to drink wine again.

At this rate the ghoul was starting to hate alcohol in general.

~~~

The one time it mattered.

Barry was for once completely sober. He was in the casino area of the Lucky 38. Staring at his glass of scotch like it had caused all the pain in his chest. He wanted to be able to enjoy it like he used to, let the amber liquid drown the hurt he was feeling. Instead whenever he tasted it he thought of that first kiss in their makeshift camp, mouths pressed together- biting, licking and sucking.

It was an accident. Just like the others after it.

From his peripheral vision he saw movement. "Hey." He didn't have to look over to know who it was. "I think we need to talk."

The ghoul snorted. "It's usually me who's doing all the talking." Boone frowned as he sat down on the bar-stool beside Barry. "What'd ya have on your mind partner?" He asked. Wishing now that he had gotten drunk for this. Maybe then the rejection wouldn't hurt so bad.

"I need-" The sniper sighed. It seemed like the topic wasn't easy. Then again Boone wasn't very good at talking in general. He took off his sunglasses, and for once Barry got to look into the other man's eyes. Guilt was the most prominent emotion shinning in those pretty green irises. "I need you to know that I'm sorry." It was unlike Boone to be exposed like this. Vulnerable. However it seemed the ex-first recon soldier deemed it necessary or else he wouldn't have done it.

"You and me both."

"I've been thinking and comparing...Comparing you to Carla." he sounded choked up when he said her name. Bartholomew didn't interrupt. "I realized that it's not fair. To either of you... You don't make me feel like I did with her. The feeling is different, but good." There was a shrug.

"But you can't." Barry stated, knowing where the conversation was going- and Boone gave a solemn nod. Looking conflicted.

He took a deep breath. "Not yet, but I want to. Just- not right now." He understood. The wounds on his heart were still too fresh to open up to anyone yet. Bartholomew understood but that didn't stop his heart from constricting in his chest painfully. 

The last kiss was sweet and tender, like the sniper was afraid to break him. However it was already too late for that. When he left the room Barry knocked his glass to the floor. The carpet soaking up the alcohol and making a large stain. He cradled his head and cried. This time it was ugly and loud. His body shaking with long gross sobs.  
He wished that the man had just outright rejected him. Maybe then it wouldn't hurt so damn bad.

It fucking hurt and there was nothing he could drown himself in to ease the pain. 

~~~

Extra:

After Bitter Springs- after seeing Boone at his lowest and get back up despite it all made Barry so damn proud. Something changed between them during that time.  
There wasn't any alcohol for once. Just the stars above them and the sand below them as they relaxed. Sitting down and just enjoying each other's presence. That was the thing about the Mojave, it was fast paced living. You fought, you died. So there wasn't usually a chance just to admire the beauty of the sky for a while.

Their hands accidentally brushed together, neither one of them moved. After a few heart beats the ghoul risked a glance at the other male. He could still see that Boone was conflicted despite the blank look on his face, what gave him away was his emotions that were shown running rampant behind those damn sunglasses.

Reaching up Barry took them off. Letting out a soft exhale. The sniper didn't try to stop him.

It seemed like Boone had made up his mind about something, and he was leaning in. The kiss felt like it was second nature, it was soft. Like their last kiss except without as much regret. Barry could taste cigarette smoke and under that was something undeniably Boone. He liked the taste.

They settled back in their respective spots, maybe now just a little closer together than before. Fingers intertwined as they watched the moon go down.

After that Barry never hurt again.


End file.
